


Empok Nope

by madwriter223



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Episode Fix-it, Gen, Nobody Dies, Panic Attacks, Psychotropic Drugs, because feels, some violence, though only implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: A rewrite of Empok Nor in which all of that nasty not-niceness does. not. happen. Because of feels and also no.





	Empok Nope

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite of the episode Empok Nor (season 5 episode 24). Because sometimes you just have to fix plots like that, yikes.
> 
> Everybody is alive. Nobody died, though one of the doped up Cardassians tried. Well, one guy died, but that's essentially the only canonical death I kept.

O'Brien’s brows knitted together, an odd feeling turning in his gut. He couldn't help the thought that something wasn't right here. “Garak, wait.”

Garak stopped with an annoyed huff, which only made that odd feeling grow. “ _What_ is it now?” 

O'Brien came closer, brows still knitted. “That isn't the face of a tailor.”

“Because I'm not one. Now, get out of my way,” Garak hissed, pushing O'Brien aside. “I do prefer to finish what I started.”

O'Brien blocked him, stepping into his path. “You're sweating.” And he was. Sweating, even despite the chill permitting the station. Definitely not a good sign.

“Am I?” He touched his forehead and tapped his fingers together. “Interesting. No matter.” He shrugged and turned on his heel to leave the other way.

O'Brien darted around to block him again. “Yes matter. You're not acting like yourself.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because Garak's eyes narrowed, his full attention on O'Brien now. “And how would you know that? Hmm?” He stepped towards O'Brien, forcing him to take a step back. “We're not exactly friends, you and I, wouldn't you say? I sincerely doubt you'd be able to name even a single thing about me.”

“I know _this_ isn't like you.” O'Brien kept stepping back each time Garak took a step forward, leading him further into the room. Where he knew Nog should be patrolling.

“Perhaps.” Garak acquiesced with a nod, but that didn't make O'Brien feel any safer. “Perhaps being on an actual Cardassian station has brought out the Cardassian in me. Will you fault me for that?”

“DS9 is Cardassian made.” He kept edging back, eyes still on Garak. If he started looking around for Nog, Garak would only grow suspicious and move back.

But for now, Garak kept following after him. He did seem to be getting angrier with each step, though. “Don't get me started on the mockery the Bajorans have made of it!” Behind them, O'Brien thought he saw a flash of brown skin, but he didn't take his eyes off of Garak, just in case. “Too bright, too cold, and with far too many annoying little humanoids _whining_ at me all day long. I'd love nothing better than to grab them by the neck and-” He reached for O'Brien's neck, his fingers curling like claws.

The tip of a riffle nozzle appeared over his shoulder, and Garak jerked with a startled cry as Nog fired his phaser at him. Or right at his neck, to be more precise. 

O'Brien cursed and grabbed Garak just as he toppled over. “Why'd you do that for?!” he yelled to Nog, straining to hold Garak's dead weight up. _Dead_ weight, oh God. He lifted his hand to Garak's neck, pressing under his jaw to check his pulse. He panicked a bit when he couldn't find it (stupid scales), but thankfully he realized he could feel Garak breathing against his neck. He sighed in relief and lowered Garak onto the floor. “Nog, what the Hell?! Why’d you shoot him _in the neck_?!”

“He was reaching for you in a threatening manner!” Nog argued, clutching his rifle to his chest. “I had to subdue him!”

O'Brien had to concede that point. That had been the reason why he'd lured Garak over here. “Well, good thing you did. I think he was exposed to that psychedelic compound he was talking about.”

Nog clutched his riffle to his chest. “That's just great. If he's as dangerous as those other two, our goose is cooked!”

O'Brien blinked in confusion. “Our what is what?”

Nog shrugged. “Jake's been experimenting with 20th century slang for a story. It means the same as 'There are debtors coming and nowhere to hide the latinum'.”

“I'll assume that's Ferengi for we're in deep trouble.”

Nog nodded emphatically.

O'Brien sighed, looking down at Garak. He was still sweating and twitching, even unconscious. “Well. We can't just leave him on the ground.”

“He might wake up and go on a rampage.”

O'Brien huffed. He had to agree with him again. But what to do? 

He grabbed his radio and toggled the switch. “O'Brien here, we've got a problem with Garak. Finish up and head back to the main bay. Amaro, Stolzoff, keep an eye out. There's still one Cardassian on the lose.”

The radio crackled. “One?”

“Garak took one out before he... just get back here. We'll explain once you get here.”

“Roger that, sir.”

*~*

“And then Nog zapped him in the neck.”

They all turned to look at him, with expressions varying from disappointment to disapproval. Amaro looked proud. Ish.

Nog bristled. “He was advancing aggressively! I had to do something!”

“And we're glad you did, but did you have to aim at the neck? I'm sure they covered that in your training – the neck is never a good target.”

“I panicked,” Nog admitted quietly, his riffle hanging from his hands.

“What's done is done.” O'Brien waved his hand, cutting the argument off. “Garak is out, a Cardassian is out and about, both are dosed with something that makes them highly aggressive killers. Any ideas on how we should deal with the situation?”

They looked around each other, trying to think of something. Boq'ta was the first to speak. 

“Maybe we should lower the temperature in here.”

“What?” O’Brien blinked, and Boq’ta pointed at Garak, still twitching and sweating.

“Garak's overheating. I think we should try to keep him cool so his brain doesn't cook.”

Nog leaned closer, eyes wide. “That can happen?”

“That's actually a great idea.” Pechetti grinned, fidgeting with the sling his arm was in. “Technically Cardassians are humanoid lizards. And lizards don't do well when it's cold.”

“How does that matter right now?” Amaro demanded, rifle held at the ready.

“If we override the default environmental settings and lower the temperature, it should affect the Cardassian trying to kill us.” Pechetti pointed out, and Boq’ta nodded his agreement.

“But affect how?” Stolzoff asked, keeping one eye on the shadows around them. She was still a bit jumpy, but that was to be expected. Especially considering one of those Cardassians had already attacked her and Pechetti. It was a miracle they had managed to get away with only some bruises and Pechetti’s broken clavicle.

“Does it matter? It should slow him down enough for us to stun him with a phaser. We can do it from here, we’d just need to rewire a console or two.”

“Sounds like a plan.” O’Brien nodded. “Let's put Garak somewhere secure first. I don't want him waking up and attacking us.”

Nog nodded. “I saw a closet over there.” He pointed over his shoulder, towards the corridor on the left. “We can barricade him in.”

There didn't seem to be any other choice. At least not currently. “Sounds good. We'll stick together until we neutralize the Cardassian. I'm not taking any chances.” 

“Yes, Chief!”

*~*

With Garak secured in that closet, O'Brien felt much calmer about the situation. With him locked behind metal doors, there was one less thing to worry about. He could concentrate on the environmental re-calibrations in peace.

“Hey, Sir! Check this out!”

In relative peace. “In a moment.” O'Brien shifted the configuration of his emitter and the stubborn cable finally clicked into place. “There. That's three done.” He turned around. “What did you want to show me?”

“We found a med-kit.” Boq'ta lifted the gray box he held.

“You did? Where?”

“Over there, by that console on the left. Pechetti recognized their sign for 'Medic'.”

“Your scavenger hunting comes in handy.” O'Brien said with a grin. “Let's open it up and see what's inside.”

Ten hypos, a dermal regenerator, some bandages, a single packet of pills and what they assumed was a breathing apparatus of some kind. It was basically a medium sized canister with a mouth piece mounted on top. 

Pechetti squinted as he read through the label on the canister. “I'm fairly sure this says concentrated air.”

“You're _fairly_ sure.” Nog repeated.

“My Cardassian isn't that great, I mostly just learn it for finding souvenirs.”

“It's fine, no one blames you.” O'Brien picked up a hypo. “I'm more interested in these.”

Boq'ta cocked his head to the side. “They have different colors around the base.” A strip of yellow or dark blue.

Pechetti took a yellow one and squinted at the little label. “Okay.” he pointed at one of the words. “This one definitely means 'awake'. And the one next to it says 'seven days'.”

“We definitely don't want the Cardie awake for seven days.” Amaro snorted.

“Watch the language. But yeah, none of us want that.” O'Brien agreed and handed Pechetti a blue hypo. “What about this one?”

Boq'ta smiled, eyes wide with hope. “Maybe it's a sedative.”

“I think it is. They use the same word for 'sleep' and 'sedate' and this is definitely it.” He traced the letters with a squint. “I don't see for how long, though.”

Boq’ta grabbed another of the blue hypos. “Who cares? As long as he drops, we're good!”

“And what if he runs and hides before the sedative kicks in, and we don't manage to find him before it wears off, and he tries to go killing again?” Amaro asked, brows drawn low over his eyes.

“Must you be such a downer?” Stolzoff smacked his arm.

“Enough.” O'Brien barked, then gathered all the blue hypos to count them. Five in total. “We'll just have to catch him straight away.”

Nog glanced into the med-kit “I don't mind if we stick all five hypos in him.”

“He might overdose,” Boq’ta pointed out with a frown.

“He might kill us!” Nog fired back, a bit on the loud side. “He broke Pechetti's clavicle! He nearly broke Stolzoff's neck!”

Pechetti shivered and winced. “I'm fairly sure he was aiming for my neck as well, so I'm good with a clavicle.”

“I say we jab him with at least three.” Amaro hefted his rifle onto his shoulder and reached for the hypos.

O’Brien moved them out of his reach. “Two, and if he doesn't drop, we'll use more.” O'Brien decided, and Amaro took a step back with a clipped nod. “We should keep one for Garak, just in case.”

“How is he?” Boq'ta asked, glancing worriedly at the closet.

O’Brien put one blue hypo back into the case. “Still out, last time I checked. That's what happens when you get hit with a stun in the neck.” He handed two hypos to Amaro, then the other two to Stolzoff.

“And he won't get out?”

Nog shook his head decisively. “We welded the door shut. He's not getting out unless we let him out.”

O’Brien patted Boq’ta’s shoulder. “I'm sure he'll be fine. It's not like he has claustrophobia or anything, right?” It was a weak joke, but they all still laughed, eager for the stress relief. Or at least chuckled.

Inside the closet, Garak stirred.

*~*

Within the next half hour, they'd managed to reroute the environmental controls and gain access to the settings. They figured lowering the temperature by several degrees would be enough. Then they realized they really had no clue how resilient to cold Cardassians were, so they lowered the temperature even more. They figured if they were cold, the Cardassian in question would be freezing. Hopefully, it would be enough to catch him before he tried to attack again and actually killed somebody.

*~*

Garak woke up cold and confused. His head hurt. His chest hurt as well – each breath he took felt as if he was sucking it in through a piece of cloth. Did he get tangled up in his blanket again? But his arms were free. In fact, he wasn't covered at all, his blanket was missing. He blinked at the darkness of his room, trying to think. Did Father take his blanket away as punishment again?

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. He was so cold. Were the environmental controls on DS9 on the fritz again? The last time he and Ziyal had had to hide away in the holosuite running the heating rocks program. They'd have gotten frostbite otherwise.

He shivered again and forced himself to get up. He had to start his chores. He had to sweep the floor and open his shop and start preparing breakfast for the hunting hounds, and there was still that dress he had to finish for Mrs Hudid. He'd already lost his blanket privileges, he couldn't be lazy or he'd lose his bed as well. Had he lost his blanket because he'd been lazy? Or had he simply displeased Father somehow? He couldn’t remember.

He managed to sit up, but just barely. His head swam and his whole body ached, especially his neck. What happened? Had Dukat challenged him to another training session? Dukat tended to use dirty tactics even when sparing, Garak always ended up sore in surprising places.

He leaned against the wall and let out a slow breath, hoping it would help with his spinning head. No luck. He sighed and stretched his legs out, his feet pressing against the opposite wall.

Wait. There shouldn't be a wall on both sides of his bed.

It was still too dark to see, so he heaved himself to his knees, using his hands to feel around. The two walls were connected to two more, each one barely two meters wide.

A chill run down Garak's back, making him feel even colder than when he'd woken up. He was in the closet. But for what? What had he done? His head swam, and he had no idea. He couldn't remember.

“No. No, no, no, no. No, Father. I promise, I was good.” There was no reply, of course there was no reply, there was never a reply. “I don't know what I did wrong. Father, how can I learn if I don't know what I've done?”

He knew he'd get in bigger trouble, but he started hitting his palms on the walls, scratching at the metal. “Father, please. Please.” He tried shouting, but his throat felt too tight. He could barely breathe, he couldn’t even gather enough air for a shout. And Father hated when Garak shouted in his closet, he always made him stay longer. But he didn’t know what he did, surely Father would come to explain. “Please!”

Father wouldn't come, of course. He never did. Not until Garak had learned his lesson. But how could he if he didn't remember what he'd done wrong? Had he taken a bit of food outside of mealtime? Had he not finished his chores on time? Had one of his customers complained? Had he lost his training with Dukat? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember!

Garak groaned and rubbed his aching forehead against the wall. He hurt. Did he fall off something he shouldn't have been climbing? Did Talok chase him again? 

Is that it? Was he being punished because he hasn't stood up to Talok yet? He couldn't remember. “Father, please.” He needed to remember. “Please. Please, let me out...”

*~*

O'Brien turned off his welding phaser, cocking his head to the side slightly as he listened. He could've sworn he'd heard something. A moment passed and there it went again. A kind of... thumping? And some scratching of all things.

“Boq'ta,” he called, setting his welder down and getting up. “I heard something, I'm going to check it out.”

“Do you want me to get one of the security guys?” Nog and Stolzoff were off checking the perimeter of the bay, while Amaro was patrolling the walkway up top.

O'Brien thought it over briefly. “Yes. But quietly. Don't draw attention to yourself, just in case.”

“Yes, chief.” Boq'ta nodded and stood up. He headed for the nearest guard, keeping his steps unhurried, as ordered.

Meanwhile, O'Brien was slowly making his way towards the sound. He kept by the wall, just in case, his back nearly pressed to the metal.

As it turned out, the precaution wasn't necessary. The sound was coming from the closet they'd put Garak in. He must be awake.

“Garak?” The answer was too low for him to hear, so he pressed his ear to the door. “Garak? It's me, Chief O'Brien.”

There was some shuffling as Garak moved closer to the door. “Let me out,” came from within, and O'Brien winced. Garak sounded horrible.

“We can't. You got dosed by that super-xenophobic crap. We had to isolate you for your and our safety. No offense or anything.”

O’Brien had to strain to hear the reply. “It's so cold.” He winced. Garak really sounded bad.

“Yeah, we did that on purpose. We figured if the Card- the other Cardassian got cold enough, it would slow him down for us to catch him.”

“Please.” Garak banged on the door “Please!”

“Garak, we can't. We locked you in there for everyone's safety, yours included. I'm sorry, but you're not coming out of there until we have the situation resolved.”

That was the wrong thing to say, because Garak started scratching and hitting at the door again, much more frantically. “Please!”

“Hey, stop that!” O'Brien leaned closer, brows knitting together. “You'll hurt yourself!”

“Please! Please, I'll be good! I'll be good!”

“What?” O'Brien blinked, and his frown deepened.

“Chief?” Stolzoff jogged over, keeping low to the ground. “Is it the Cardassian?”

“It's our Cardassian, now quiet.” O'Brien pressed his ear to the door. “Garak? Garak, say something. Something that makes sense.”

“Please, I'll do all my chores!” It sounded muffled, as if Garak had his face pressed right against the metal of the door. “I'll even do extra!”

That sounded all sorts of wrong. “What the Hell?” he muttered, a tight feeling twisting in his chest.

The scratches and Garak’s weak voice continued, still frantic. “Please, Father, let me out! I can't- I don't know what I've done! Please, Father! It's so cold...”

Oh. Oh, no. “Fuck. Bog'ta, bring the welding phasers!”

“Please! Let me out! I can't-” The scratching stopped, and Garak started gasping and wheezing. O’Brien pressed his ear back to the door; he could still hear Garak speaking, but he couldn’t make out any words.

“What's wrong?” Boq'ta asked, jogging over. Nog followed after him, keeping his weapon at the ready.

“It's Garak. He's having some kind of flashback episode, we have to get him out.” O'Brien grabbed one phaser and set it to the correct intensity for cutting metal. They really should've thought twice before welding the door shut.

“Wait!” Stolzoff grabbed his arm, stopping him. “What if it's a trap?” 

“Trust me, it's not.” O’Brien shrugged her off but didn’t immediately start on the door.

“How do you know?” She grabbed the other phaser from Boq’ta when he moved closer to the door. 

“Look, just trust me on this. He needs out, so we're getting him out.” O’Brien exchanged his phaser for hers, and set it to the correct intensity as well.

Nog frowned and stepped closer to the closet, ear trained towards the door. “Um, Chief?”

“He's probably still dosed and dangerous!” Stolzoff pointed out, gesturing with the phaser in her hand. “Do you really want to risk our safety?”

“Chief?” Nog tried again, turning to O'Brien.

O’Brien lifted one hand, palm facing Stolzoff. “Look, it's a bit much to explain, but Garak is in distress and I think we owe him enough to make sure he's all right.”

“He's not.” Nog pronounced, ear pressed to the door.

“What?” They all turned to stare at him.

“He was gasping and choking before, but now he's not. At all.” Nog said, brow ridges furrowing. “He's stopped breathing.” 

O'Brien and Stolzoff shared a look, then they both activated their phasers and started cutting through the door.

“Get that air device from the med-kit!” O'Brien called to Boq’ta, who’d been watching them from a safe distance.

“On it!” he grabbed the apparatus and came running, Pechetti following after him. “Is Garak okay?”

“He's really not.” Nog shook his head.

“Figure out how to activate that thing!” O'Brien called over his shoulder. He and Stolzoff were almost through, they were only cutting a hole big enough for one person. Thanks to that, they were done in a couple of minutes. They pried the cut part out, moving aside when it came lose and fell with a loud bang.

“Hey, what’s going on?!” Amaro called from the walkway, but O’Brien ignored him.

“Garak!” he called through the opening. “Garak, say something!”

Pechetti shined his flashlight into the closet, and O'Brien cursed. Garak was slumped against the wall, pale, sweaty and definitely _not breathing_.

He climbed through the hole, and shook Garak's shoulder. “Come on, buddy.” Garak's head rolled limply to the side. “Fuck. Help me lift him out of here!”

Stolzoff and Boq’ta reached in through the hole and, together, they hefted Garak up and through the opening. They lay him flat on the floor, but Garak didn’t even twitch. Fuck.

“All right.” O'Brien climbed out of the closet. “Who knows Cardassian CPR?” He looked at Pechetti and Boq’ta. Out of all of them, they were the safest bet.

Or not. 

“Us?” Pechetti blinked and shook his head. “They don't teach that in Starfleet!”

“I barely know Bolivian CPR!” Boq’ta protested, holding the breathing apparatus to his chest.

O'Brien cursed and shifted over to Garak's torso. “We'll have to wing it.” Shit, what side was his heart on? Was it even in his chest? Goddamn it, he really needed to update his CPR credentials.

He started doing chest compressions, hoping he at least was compressing the right area.

“Should someone give him mouth-to-mouth?” Boq'ta asked.

Stolzoff smacked him. “You're the one holding the breathing apparatus!”

Boq'ta started. “Oh, right!” He knelt down and put the mouth piece around Garak's nose and mouth. “Where's that ON button?”

“On the left, the left!” Pechetti pointed, grabbing the canister and twisting it to the side. Boq'ta pushed the button and the apparatus buzzed to life.

“Come on, Garak.” O'Brien murmured, continuing the chest compressions. “Come _on_ , Garak.”

They all jumped when Garak jerked with a gasp and started coughing. O'Brien grabbed the breathing apparatus and pressed it tighter to Garak's face. “You're okay, you're out. Deep breaths. Deep slow breaths.”

Garak obeyed, blinking blearily at them. It was clear he wasn't all there; his eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide. But he was breathing, so O'Brien would count that as a win. It was a very small win, though. Garak was pale and kept shivering uncontrollably. When O'Brien touched his neck, he felt practically freezing. The shock and nearly dying weren't helping, either. Fuck, Bashir was going to have ‘words’ with O’Brien about this, he was sure of it.

“Well. At least we know lowering the temperature is having an effect.” Garak continued lying there, barely awake.

Boq’ta took hold of Garak’s hand, rubbing it between his own. “He’s really cold. Shouldn't we cover him with a thermal blanket?”

“Are you kidding me? What if he wakes up and attacks us?” Amaro protested, and O’Brien blinked. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d come down from the walkway, too focused on Garak. 

“What if he dies?”

“It's a moot point anyway.” Stolzoff put a hand on Boq’ta’s shoulder. “The thermal blankets blew up with the roundabout.”

“There might be some here!”

Amaro snorted. “And you propose we look for it while a homicidal Cardie could attack us at any moment?” 

“Easy on the C-word.” O'Brien admonished him. He patted Garak on the shoulder in apology, though he sincerely doubted Garak had even noticed the slur. “We will have to figure something out about Garak, so he doesn't die. But there are two other pressing matters as well.”

“The Cardie.” A sharp look from O'Brien. “...assian.”

“And finding a way to contact DS9.”

“We could always split up into pairs.” Pechetti proposed. “We can deal with each issue simultaneously.”

“Normally I'd agree.” O’Brien sat back, though he still kept his hand on the breathing apparatus, holding it close to Garak’s face. “But this isn't normal and us splitting up will probably end with death.”

“So what do we do?”

“Garak and contacting DS9 have to come first.” O’Brien said, and none of them argued.

Pechetti turned to look at the storage crates gathered in one side of the bay. “We could disassemble one of the crates and put him on it so he doesn't have to lie on the freezing floor.”

“And we can tie him to it to immobilize him.” Stolzoff gave a small shrug, an apologetic look on her face. “For safety reasons.”

O’Brien nodded. “Sounds good. Me and Nog will take care of that, Pechetti and Boq'ta will start on getting the comm system operational. Stolzoff and Amaro, you two stay vigilant. No one wander off.”

“Yes, Chief!” They all replied in unison. Garak let out a weak groan and tried to curl up on his side.

O'Brien turned off the apparatus and set it by Garak’s head. It was the only one they had, so they’d better ration it a bit. He took off his jacket and draped it over Garak, then stood up. “Come on, Nog. Let's pick out that crate.”

Nog hefted his phaser rifle onto his shoulder. “Yes, Chief.”

*~*

After a brief search, they managed to find a non-metal crate for Garak. Moving him off of the metal floor and onto metal palettes that were just as cold made very little sense. Thankfully, there was a crate made from de-carbonated wood. Not perfect, but close enough.

“Hey, Chief! I think I got the long range comms online.” Pechetti called.

“You think?” O’Brien called back, eyeing the crate and trying to find the quickest way to disassemble it.

“Only two main couplings are still operational, but it should be enough to send a message out.”

“Give it a try, then. We'll just send another message when we fix up the comm system.” O’Brien ran his hand down side. The bolts here looked fairly easy to remove. “Nog, get a lever, we need to pry these off.”

“Yes, Chief.”

“What should I include in the message?” Pechetti called again.

O’Brien turned to him one more time. “Tell them the situation as it is. No jokes and no sugar-coating.” He accepted the lever from Nog, then started on the bottom ones, Nog mirroring him on the other side. “Oh, and tell them we've got a medical emergency and that it's Garak.”

“Should we tell them how bad it is?”

“If you tell them we’ve had to resuscitate him, Dr Bashir will break the Warp barrier getting here.” O’Brien joked, but no one laughed this time.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Of course it's a yes!” Amaro yelled from his spot by the doors. “We'll freeze if they take their sweet time!”

“... I'll tell them that, too.” Pechetti started up the comm and began transmitting. “Emergency, Deep Space Nine, this is Crewman Pechetti. We require immediate assistance. We arrived on Empok Nor, but there were two Cardassians waiting, doped up on something. They've attacked us and destroyed the roundabout. Garak got dosed too, but he had a seizure and we had to resuscitate him. I think he might still be dying. We've lowered the temperature down to near freezing to bring down the other Cardassian. If you don't hurry, we will all die, either from the cold or the hostile. I repeat – we need immediate assistance. Please help!”

Just as he was finishing, O'Brien and Nog finally managed to pry the last bolts out. The side fell off with a loud bang, and Boq'ta jumped with a loud scream. Amaro, who was standing the closest, jerked and accidentally fired his phaser, very nearly hitting Stolzoff in the face.

“What's going on?!” O'Brien yelled from where he'd ducked behind the crate. “Is it the Cardassian?!”

“No, no. I...” Boq'ta cleared his throat. “The bang startled me.”

“And his scream startled me.” Amaro admitted. “Sorry.”

“As long as no one got hurt.” O'Brien, with Nog’s help, lifted the fallen crate-side and dragged it over to Garak. He was still shivering uncontrollably with that same glazed look on his face. He was breathing shallowly again, so O'Brien picked up the breathing apparatus and placed it back over Garak's face. “Nog, get one more crate-side over here.”

“Yes, Sir! Chief!” Nog corrected himself with a sheepish grin and went back to pry another one lose. It also fell over with a loud bang, and O'Brien was close enough to hear Garak's breath hitch.

“You'll be fine, Garak, you'll see,” he murmured. “Help will come soon.” He patted his shoulder in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. Instead, Garak surged upwards and smacked O'Brien in the face.

“Chief! Move back, he's dangerous!” Amaro jumped forward, phaser rifle at the ready.

“No! Stand down!” O'Brien waved him off. Garak jerked up again, and one of his flailing hands managed to grab his arm. “It's fine, he's still out of it.”

“He might be waking up!” Amaro insisted, moving closer. “We should sedate him!”

Stolzoff walked over as well, though her rifled wasn’t pointing at Garak. “If we sedate him, he might die.”

“If he attacks _us_ , _we_ might die!”

Nog grunted as he pulled the crate-side past Amaro. “I don't like him anymore than you do, but even I can tell he can hardly move.”

Garak managed to twist around onto his side, facing away from O'Brien. He let out a low sound, like a cross between a hiss and a growl. It sounded pretty dangerous, but the fact Garak was still trembling with unfocused eyed dispelled any feelings of danger.

O'Brien sighed and grabbed Garak's shoulders. “You're both right.” He hefted him up into a sitting position, and let him slump against his chest. “We can't sedate him, but if he's moving around, then he might be a danger.” He sent Amaro a reproachful look. “More to himself than to any of us. Put that thing down.” He nodded at the rifle.

Amaro hesitated, but obeyed. “Then what will we do with him?”

O'Brien grabbed Garak's flailing hands and held them down against his side. “We'll have to put him somewhere, maybe tie him to something. No closets this time, though.”

“There's what looks like a storage space over there, with a few separate rooms.” Pechetti pointed towards the opposite side of the room. “I think there are some pipes in one of them, we could tie him to them.”

Garak made another growl-hiss, and O'Brien huffed. “We don't have much choice. Who has a belt?”

“I do.” Stolzoff slipped it off and handed it over.

O’Brien took it. “Help me bind his hands.” She nodded and knelt down, waiting till O’Brien immobilized Garak’s hands before wrapping the belt around his wrists.

“Me and Boq’ta will move the crate-sides into one of the rooms.” Nog huffed as he shifted the one he was still holding around, towards where Pechetti had pointed. Boq’ta grabbed the other end, which made the job much easier.

“You do that. Pechetti, look around and see if you can find any rope or cables. We’ll need more than one belt to secure Garak.” 

“Yes, Chief!” Pechetti hurried off back towards one of the consoles they had disabled, Amaro following after him.

Garak let out another one of those growl-hisses, and O'Brien held him tighter to still his shivers. Poor guy, O'Brien thought to himself. He wasn't that bad, for a Cardassian. Plus, he was still technically a civilian. A civilian that had agreed to help in a dangerous away mission only to get dosed with a possibly lethal chemical.

Garak let out a barely discernible whine as Stolzoff finished wrapping her belt around his wrists. She’d added in a few twists and knots to make him more secure, and O’Brien nodded his approval. There was no way Garak would be able to slip out of those, especially with how unsteady he still was. His breathing was getting shallow again, getting pretty close to hyperventilating levels. O'Brien pursed his lips and rubbed Garak's back. “Hold on, Garak. Help will get here soon.”

He put the breathing apparatus back on him, and Garak slumped against him, shaking like a leaf. 

“Hey, Chief?” Pechetti called, coming closer with a bunch of cables in his hand. “If Garak's that bad off from the cold, do you think it's a good time to start searching for that other Cardassian?”

“Truth be told, I expected him to come to us.” O’Brien slowly lowered Garak onto the crate-side. It wasn’t big enough for all of him, but at least his torso fit on it. “We haven't left this area in two hours. The 'hunter' should've come to us by now.”

“Maybe something happened to him.” Nog said, hefting another crate-side towards the room they’d chosen, Boq’ta helping him. They might as well put all five in there, just in case they needed an extra.

“Boo-freaking-hoo.” Amaro snorted, climbing onto the walkway to do another sweep of ‘their’ area.

“We'll secure Garak, then have a look around.” O’Brien decided, putting his jacket back over Garak.

Boq'ta frowned. “Shouldn't someone stay with him? What if the Cardassian comes and kills him?”

“We could get one of the bigger crates into the room as well, put Garak in it until we come back.” Pechetti was already eyeing the crates nearby, but Boq’ta smacked him in the arm. 

“Yeah, that is a great idea. Here we have someone who stopped breathing in a locked closet, let's put him in a crate!”

“It was just a suggestion,” Pechetti grumbled, rubbing his arm.

“We could just weld the door shut again.” Nog said, stepping out of the room. “Though someone should still stay with him, just in case he stops breathing again.”

“I'll do it.” Stolzoff offered. “Pechetti can stay with us as well, with his broken arm he'll just get in your way.”

“All right, we’ll do that. You finished with that crate?” After getting a confirmation, he turned to Stolzoff. “Help me get Garak up. Amaro, come help as well!”

*~*

Getting Garak into the room was a bit more difficult than getting the crate-sides in there. The cold combined with the drug had affected him to the point that his legs were essentially useless. When O'Brien and Amaro pulled him up and onto his feet, his legs wouldn't hold him up at all. They bent and dragged behind as they tried to get Garak to walk. His head rolled listlessly, unseeing eyes blinking as he hung slumped between them.

“Do we just drag him?” Amaro asked, huffing from the effort of holding Garak up. Full grown Cardassians tended to be on the heavy side. 

“Stolzoff, get his legs,” O'Brien called. She did, and the three of them together managed to get Garak into the room much quicker. They set him on the crate-sides Nog and Boq'ta had set by the wall, laying him on his side so it would be easier to tie him to the pipe sticking out of the wall.

“Wow,” Amaro huffed, cracking his back. “He's heavy.”

“I think it's all those scales,” O’Brien said, watching as Stolzoff bound Garak's wrists to the pipes with the extra cables Pechetti had found.

“Whatever,” Amaro rolled his shoulders and left the room. 

A moment later Pechetti came in, holding the breathing apparatus. “Can’t forget this.”

“Right.” They’d left it. He looked at Garak, then around the room. It had no windows, a single door and a single vent, too small for anyone to fit through, let alone a grown Cardassian. It was also hopefully big enough that Garak wouldn’t panic if he woke up. All in all, this might be the most secure place they could scrounge up.

“Will you manage the rest?” O'Brien asked Stolzoff, nodding at Garak and Pechetti.

“We'll be fine, sir.” She gave a confident nod, standing up and grabbing her rifle.

“Besides, you're welding us shut in here. Right?” Pechetti looked from O'Brien to Nog. “Right?”

“Right.” Nog nodded and lifted his welding phaser. “For your safety.”

“Remember to radio us if anything happens,” O'Brien reminded her as he and Nog moved out the door.

“We will, sir,” Stolzoff and Pechetti said in unison, and Garak let out a quiet croak.

“All right. We’ll try to be back as soon as we can.” O'Brien nodded and closed the door. It didn't take long to weld the door into the door frame. They even disabled the door controls to make sure the doors were firmly locked, then the four of them set out to get the last Cardassian.

*~*

In the end, it took them about half an hour to find the Cardassian. Or, should we say, for the Cardassian to find them. They'd been going slowly down a corridor when the Cardassian had grabbed Boq'ta. Well. Had pawned at Boq'ta's arm, hand waving jerkily while Boq'ta jumped away with a scream. 

It seemed the cold had done its trick.

Amaro was quick to grab the jerking arm. “Where's the hypo?!” he yelled, and O'Brien jumped forward, jabbing a hypo into the hand, in-between the scales. Then another one, just to be certain.

A few seconds later, they gray arm flopped down, fingers still twitching. They stared at it, and the way it was sticking out between the wall panels. The rest of the Cardassian was presumably behind there.

“All right. Who remembered to take tools with 'em?” O’Brien asked, hands on his hips.

Silence.

“We could cut him out with the phasers.” Amaro made a circular motion with one hand. “Just cut around it.”

“And what if we hit him?” Nog asked, edging closer and nudging the arm with the tip of his rifle.

“I'm not gonna cry over him.” Amaro shrugged.

O'Brien sighed. Getting back to the bay for the tools and back here would take about 40 minutes, give or take. Far too long. “We'll cut a wide circle around the arm. Carefully.” He threw a sharp look at Amaro.

“Fine, Chief. _Around_.”

“Glad we understand each other.”

*~*

With one last zap of the phasers, the door could finally be opened again.

“Thanks, guys.” Pechetti grinned at them. “It was getting a bit stuffy in here.”

“Glad to be of service.” Amaro grunted as he and O’Brien dragged the sedated Cardassian into the room. They dumped him onto a crate-side by the opposite wall, and Amaro gave him a kick for good measure. “And stay down, you Cardie asshole!”

“Amaro!” Stolzoff snapped at him with a disapproving glare.

“What?” She looked pointedly at _their_ Cardassian. “Oh. Sorry, Garak. Heat of the moment.”

Garak didn't acknowledge him. He was lying on his side staring sightlessly at the wall.

“How is he?” O'Brien asked, leaning against the wall by Garak’s head.

“Not so good.” Pechetti shook his head. “He started hyperventilating a few times, it takes longer for him to calm down each time. Even with the breathing apparatus.”

O'Brien pursed his lips. “That's just great,” he grumbled with a deep sigh.

“What will we do now?” Boq'ta asked, helping Amaro tie the other Cardassian onto the crate-side.

“You and Pechetti work on getting the comms all the way online. Nog and I will go and turn off the transporter scramblers.”

“What about Garak and the Card- the doped up bastard?”

“We'll leave them in the room for now.” O’Brien breathed onto his hands, rubbing them together. “It's a bit warmer in there, so it's probably best for Garak.”

“What if the other guy wakes up and attacks him?” Nog asked, looking from the other Cardassion to Garak and back.

“They're both tied down to opposite walls.” Stolzoff pointed out.

Boq'ta turned to O'Brien with a worried look. “Can I give him another hypo? Just in case?”

O’Brien eyed the other Cardassian, then shook his head. “In an hour. We don't want to kill the bastard, now do we?”

“Yes, we wouldn't want that.” Amaro said in a flat tone.

“Glad you agree, Amaro. You'll keep watch over them, then.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Just as a precaution. And just till we finish our tasks. Now come on. Get to work, everyone.”

“Yes, Chief!”

*~*

By the time O'Brien and Nog returned with the scramblers in tow, Boq'ta and Pechetti hadn't made much headway in getting the long range comms online. They did get the station wide comms operational, though, so that was at least half the battle. Especially considering the Defiant chose that moment to arrive and hack into the comms.

“Attention, Empok Nor. This is the USS Defiant. You will stand down and cease all hostilities against Starfleet personnel immediately.”

“The Defiant?” They all looked at each other in surprise. “They brought the Defiant?”

“What kind of message did you send them?” Stolzoff asked, surprise evident on her face.

“Just that one two hours ago!” Pechetti exclaimed. “I didn't even think that it would reach the station at all!”

“Well, it did.” O'Brien put his hands on his hips with a grin. “Now we just have to figure out how to respond to their hails.”

“Can we turn up the temperature now?” Boq’ta asked with a shiver.

O’Brien shook his head. “Not yet. Better not risk Wall-Arm waking up.”

“Please tell me you're going to call him that in the official report.” Boq’ta begged with a grin, and they all shared a chuckle.

“I don't think Captain Sisko would appreciate that.” O'Brien snorted with a small smile. “Now come on, help me figure out the comms.”

*~*

Pechetti tried establishing contact, but each time the comms failed, either to reach the Defiant or just to work in general. O'Brien wouldn't be able to tell without running a proper diagnostic, and he wasn't about to waste his time on that.

The crew of the Defiant quickly got impatient about their lack of answer. They scanned the whole station, then beamed four security personnel directly to where they were. Worf, of course, was at the very front, armed to the teeth.

“Where is the Cardassian threat?!” he demanded. 

Boq'ta, who was the closest to him, flinched and pointed at the room they'd secured the Cardassians in. “Over there?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Worf demanded with a confused frown.

“Telling?” Boq’ta cleared his throat. “I mean telling. Telling, definitely telling.”

Worf nodded with a grim look, and all four guards lifted their weapons, safety's off.

“Wait, hold up! Garak's in there, too!” O’Brien called, hurrying over.

“We will try to avoid hitting him.” Worf said, though his tone didn’t really inspire confidence.

“Don't be an ass.” O’Brien muttered, tapping him on the chest. “He's in a really bad way, and the other Cardassian is sedated.”

That certainly stopped Worf in his tracks. “Then where is the danger?”

“Neutralized.”

Worf lowered his gun. “It is?” O’Brien resisted the laugh at how disappointed Worf sounded.

“If you wanted to hunt the Cardassian down yourself, you should've gotten here sooner,” he teased, and Worf gave him an unamused look. He didn’t even blink until O’Brien cleared his throat. “Get Julian down here, I’m sure he tagged along.”

Worf rolled his eyes and tapped his badge. “Worf to Defiant. Situation is under control. Medical emergency, beam Doctor Bashir down.”

“Copy that, Sir.”

Bashir materialized with a full medical bag in hand and a tense expression on his face. “Where's Garak?”

“This way.” O'Brien lead the way to the room, then just stepped aside. Sure enough, Bashir rushed into the room and straight to Garak's side. He had his scanner out and in use before his knees even hit the floor.

“He's in shock, his temperature is way too low. Garak?” Bashir undid the belt and cables binding Garak's wrists to the pipe, then turned him onto his back, supporting his head as he did. He patted his cheeks, hands gentle but firm. “Garak! Can you hear me?” Nothing. “Garak, it's me. It's Julian. Garak.” But he remained none-responsive, there was barely a twitch of his eyelids. Bashir looked to O'Brien, face tight with worry. “Miles, what the hell happened?”

“Oh, many things.”

“Miles!”

O’Brien lifted both hands, palm up. “I'm not joking! It was one thing after another like a clusterfuck parade.” He started counting off on his fingers. “First he got dosed with some psychotropic compound which umped up his aggression, which in turn made Nog panic and stun him in the neck. Then I had the brilliant idea to isolate him in case he'd wake up and decide to attack us, so we put him in a closet.”

“You what?!” Bashir gaped at him. “Garak has acute claustrophobia!”

O'Brien nodded. “We figured that out after he had a panic attack and his lungs seized up.”

“What.” The word was clipped, and O'Brien was fairly sure a Klingon would cringe at that tone.

“We had to resuscitate him.” He gestured at Garak. O’Brien was fairly sure he wasn’t even blinking anymore. “He's been like that since. He's been hyperventilating on and off as well, but we use that breathing apparatus on him and it helps.”

Bashir grabbed the device and tucked it in his belt. He tapped his badge. “Bashir to Defiant.”

“Wait. Before you beam him out of here, can you at least make sure that other one doesn't die?” He pointed at the opposite wall and Bashir looked as well. His lips pursed, then he pulled a thermal blanket from his bag and covered Garak with it. “Make sure his neck ridges stay covered, but _don't_ rub them.” He told O'Brien, then went to check on the second Cardassian.

O'Brien knelt by Garak and wrapped the blanket more securely around his neck.” You'll be fine soon, buddy.”

Garak didn't reply, just stared sightlessly forward. O'Brien winced and patted his shoulder.

Bashir was back within moments. “The other Cardassian will live. He's sedated and close to hibernation, but he's not in immediate danger. The drug he's on is stopping him from going completely under, so he's a bit shocky himself. Here.” He pulled a second thermal blanket from his bag. “Cover him with this, I'll have him beamed aboard when I have Garak stabilized.”

“You'll manage, right?”

“We'll see. I'll have the EMH assist me.” He tapped his badge again, and O'Brien moved back. “Bashir to Defiant. Two to beam directly to Sickbay.”

O'Brien watched them dematerialize, then walked over to the other Cardassian. He shook out the blanket and lay it over the man.

He left the room without looking back. Might as well talk to Worf and upraise him on the situation. Wonder who else came along?

*~*

“Emergency... Cardassians... attacked... destroyed... Garak... seizure... resuscitated... dying... temperature... freezing... bring down... all die!... Assistance... help!” There was a sudden clang, followed immediately by a scream and phaser fire.

O'Brien blinked and scratched his neck. “Yeah, I'm not surprised at all you've brought the Defiant along. If I had heard that message, I'd call for reinforcements as well.”

“We did.” Jadzia put her hands on her hips with a rueful smile. “I had to explain to a bunch of battle ready Klingons that there would be _no_ battle.”

“... were they mad?”

“More disappointed, but it's hard to tell with them. It's all in the ridges, I think.” She chuckled and nudged O’Brien with her elbow.

“Thank you all anyway.” He nudged back, then hefted his tool box up. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a manifold to scavenge.”

“Worf, Bailey, go with him.” Jadzia instructed. “As long as we're here, I don't want anymore surprises.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Bailey saluted, and Worf simply nodded his assent. 

“Well, come on then. Time's a-wastin'.” O’Brien headed towards where he hoped the manifold would be. It should be in the same place as on Deep Space Nine, so hopefully it wouldn’t take long. “I really don't want to stay here any longer than I absolutely still have to.”

“Good luck!” Jadzia called after them, then tapped her badge. “One to beam up.”

*~*

The next time O'Brien saw Garak, it was through an observation window in the infirmary, after they had all gone back to their own station. Home sweet home, and all that.

“He looks much better,” O’Brien said, and he meant it. He hadn't even realized how _gray_ Garak had looked at that station. He'd been the color of overworked metal – dull and ashen. Now he was back to his normal gray, and he looked alive again. Not like a man about to die.

“He's stable now, that makes all the difference.” Bashir said, standing next to him.

“How bad was he?”

Bashir’s lips pursed. “The shock and the cold weakened him considerably. His heartbeat was close to nil. Of course, the drug didn't help any, either.”

“Is he still-?”

“No, we've managed to purge all of it from his system. It'll be a while until he's up and about, though.”

“What about the other Cardassian?”

Bashir shook his head. “There's nothing we can do for him. He's been under the effects of the compound for too long. There are irreversible changes in his brain chemistry. Captain Sisko has already notified Cardassia, they're sending a ship for him.”

O’Brien nodded, but very carefully didn't think about his fate. What good was an attack dog that attacked its masters? “But Garak-”

“Wasn't under for as long. He'll be completely fine.” Bashir gave a small smile. “With time, of course, but he'll be fine.”

“Good. That's good.” O’Brien smiled back, then looked back to Garak. “Could I go talk with him?”

Bashir hesitated for a short moment, but nodded. “Of course, but just for a few minutes. He needs to rest.”

“Thanks.”

*~*

O'Brien approached the bed, his slow steps loud in the otherwise silent room. Garak didn’t wake up, though, so O’Brien put a hand on his knee, squeezing it through the blanket. 

Garak opened his eyes with a sharp inhale, blinking a few times before he focused on O'Brien. He gave a wan, almost embarrassed, smile. “Hello, Chief.”

“Hey.” O’Brien kept his voice low, matching the hush of the room. “How are you feeling?”

Garak winced briefly. “Considering what I was told about my state on Empok Nor, I believe better.”

O’Brien rolled his eyes. “In other words you feel like crap.”

Garak gave a small smile. “Quite.” He swallowed, then took a deep breath. “Chief O'Brien. I wanted to ask you about what exactly happened on that station.”

“Shoot.” There was a single chair by the bed, so O’Brien sat in it, facing Garak.

“I was told that... I was dosed with that compound. Did it...” he paused, and O'Brien waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. “Have I done anything... out of character?”

“Well.” O’Brien looked up at the ceiling and leaned back in the chair. “You did call me a few names. A bald monkey, if memory serves.”

“And did I attempt to do any of you...” Garak visibly hesitated, but went on, “harm?” 

O’Brien shook his head. “No. It didn't get to that.”

“Good.” Garak leaned back against his pillow and let out a long breath. “I'm glad, then.”

“We all are.” O'Brien paused, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I think you should talk with someone about your father locking you up in closets.”

Garak started, and closed his eyes with a small exhale. “Am I to understand I rambled?”

“A bit.” O’Brien gave a small nod.

Garak was silent for a moment, then gave one of his business smiles. “I do apologize you had to hear that. I was a rather willful child. Discipline was necessary.”

O’Brien stared at him, then gave a small thoughtful nod. “My old man used to say that about me too.” He waited for Garak to look at him before continuing. “Doesn't make it true, though.”

Garak blinked, and his lips curled into a small understanding smile. “I suppose it doesn't.”

O’Brien smiled back, then cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I've got some bad news for you.”

Garak blinked, shoulders tensing slightly. “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” O’Brien nodded with a serious expression, which quickly morphed into a crooked grin. “Keiko found out what happened, and she insists on inviting you over for dinner. When you're up to it, of course.”

Garak gave a slow blink, relaxing back against the bed. “Oh.”

“Not only that,” O’Brien continued with a teasing smile. “Molly is making you a Get Well card. She's already replicated two bottles of glitter.”

“Oh, dear.” Garak put his hand on his chest. “I might not recover.”

“You'll be fine.” O’Brien chuckled and patted his knee.

“Why, Chief.” Garak gave him a mock-disappointed look. “I must point out you did promise.”

O’Brien let out a long sigh. “I did, but both Keiko and Molly ganged up on me.”

“Ah.” Garak let out a small chuckle and folded his hands against his middle. “Well, I'd hate to disappoint my best customers.”

“That's the spirit.” He patted Garak's knee again and stood. “You get some more rest. And don't worry about what happened on that station. No one will hold it against you.”

“Thank you, Chief. I really do appreciate all you've done.”

“Don't mention it.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS ARE LIFE, please leave one. ^_^


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